


The Fat Man from Shanghai

by Uskius



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Explicit Language, Gen, One-Liner, whack-a-mole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2019-10-17 07:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17555942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uskius/pseuds/Uskius
Summary: When John Wick is contacted by the Fat Man From Shanghai for a job, it seems it couldn't be simpler: take a package codenamed Abigail from New York City to Manhasset. What could go wrong with something so easy?





	The Fat Man from Shanghai

It was five fifteen A.M., and John Wick awoke knowing he would die that day.

But otherwise, it was a normal morning. After doing his Jazzercise and Tae Bo he took a shower, with many hot scrubbings and steaminess. John Wick liked feeling clean. There were many things that made him feel dirty, but he liked feeling clean- it was how his wife and dog had made him feel. Though he still felt the watchings of evil upon him, he headed out for his morning coffee, the sky still having the gray-blue of early light.

Downtown there were already many cars hustling and bustling through the streets, with honks like angry curse words and angry curse words like gunshots filling the air. Such was one reason why John preferred to walk when he was minding his own business in the city, but all the same he still loved the noise of busy traffic. When he got to the coffee shop there were already a handful of people there, the usual early crowd who moved like zombies and ordered on auto-pilot. This particular shop had terrible coffee; their mocha cappuccino was like drinking ground tree bark flavored caffeine with hints of dark chocolate, and John absolutely loved it. As he ordered his cup he glanced over to the side and saw an alarmingly nondescript man looking at him, and he could tell by the way his jacket laid against his stomach that he was armed. John took his cup and went to sit in the same area outside as the man, taking a sip as he kept his pinky extended.

"So, I heard you're back," The nondescript man said, having a surprisingly gravelly and badass voice.

"That's an old echo. You know, sometimes, when you have nothing left, you get used to it." Said John, taking a sip of his cappuccino.

"Cute. But you can't have it both ways, John. Not after everything you've done. What's that phrase all the rappers making comebacks say again? 'The game needed me'? You can leave, but it's like amputating your trigger finger. Believe me, I know how it is."

John took a long sip of his coffee, and looked over at the man. "So, who wants to talk."

"The Fat Man From Shanghai." John almost choked and snorted out his coffee, a dark brown line dribbling down his philtrum.

"I don't do triads. The underground of this country is enough for me."

"Come on, John. The Fat Man is global. You know that."

"Yeah, I know that, and that's the problem. I've heard of deals with the Fat Man in South America that toppled countries across the globe in Europe. I'm only working small local jobs these days."

"Relax, no jet setting with this one. Here." The nondescript man reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, and slid it across the table to John. Looking down at it for a second, John cautiously opened it with unfoldings.

"Hi, John. I've heard great things about  
you from my N.A. branch office, and  
heard about that mess a couple months  
ago with your dog. I'm truly sorry about  
that. But, what I pulled from it is that  
you have integrity and loyalty, two  
things I appreciate in employees and  
associates.

What I have in mind is not a long term  
deal- if things go smoothly, the job  
would be done in less than a day, and  
that would be the end of our business  
partnership. John, I also heard how you  
took some time away from our line of  
work, and kept that in mind.

You see, this isn't your usual thing- what  
I need you to do is take a package from  
here to Manhasset, a much less crowded  
and obvious place. The package's code  
name is Abigail. Here are the addresses-"

From John's knowledges of the area, both places were in residential parts. "This is too simple for a job from the Fat Man," John said with obviousness.

"Not everything's brain surgery, pal."

"And that's the problem. The Fat Man would only do something like this in the final stages, when he can't afford to lose one of his own men. And second, I'm not a mailman."

"There's ten grand in the passenger seat."

"You know it isn't about the money."

"If you do this, you might be owed a favor from him. Just think about that for a second."

"Thought about, and still no." The nondescript dude took a key from his pocket, and placed it on the table with great hintings.

"John. You know what happens when you get on the Fat Man's good side, and what happens when you get on his bad side. Take the key; the car's a block down and around the corner."

"What's 'Abigail'?"

"Judging by where it's from and going to, I'd bet it isn't anything explosive, if you're worried about that. Beyond that I can't say, I'm only the third leg of the message team." John took a thinking type sip of his coffee, and pondered the deal. It really wasn't that far, and it would mostly be like taking a date back to their house after a night on the town.

"...Alright." The nondescript man nodded, and took the piece of paper.

"Got the addresses memorized?" John nodded, and then the man stuffed the paper into his mouth and began chewing with goatness. "You made the right choice, John. Have a safe trip." John Wick took the key, and quickly finished his coffee. It was time to drive.

John had been expecting a spy-type, actiony kind of car, but instead it was a green '04 Pontiac Vibe with a luggage rack. The duffel bag in the passenger seat was indeed full of cash, and John zipped it up and tossed it on the back seat. The drive over to the first house was kind of a pain in the butt, as now there was even more traffic on the streets. The slow moving gave time for John to think of the ominous feelings on him. He was used to his dangerous job, and didn't understand why this silly thing was bothering him today.

Even with the poopy traffic, it only took about forty-five minutes to get to the pick up place. It was a nice residential part of the city, with two story houses in a row like cheerful potted plants. John pulled up to the curb with parkingness, and looked at the house: it had a good porch, and was made of brick; and it had two chimneys, that reminded John of bunny ears. Stopping the car with precise timing, John got out and walked up to the door, knocking thrice, homie.

When it opened, an unforgettably generic middle aged woman greeted him. "Hi. Is 'Abigail' here?"

The woman turned back towards the house, and John caught an glimpse of a long scar going from behind her ear lobe to the back of her neck. "Abigail honey, your teacher is here!" The woman turned back to John, and smiled. "Why don't you step in for a minute?"

"Oh no, I'd hate to interrupt your morning. I'll wait here at the door."

"No, I insist. I'll make you some coffee," The woman said, pulling John in. He noted the house was decorated in a safe and boring modern style, and that good smells were coming from the kitchen. The kitchen looked nice and homey, loads better than the rest of the house that John saw, and on the bar/counter there was some bacon and eggs and pancakes. There was a young woman of a school age sitting there, who had light brown hair and didn't look too much like her mom; she was very pretty for a girl her age. "How do you like your coffee, John?"

"Black with two sugars," John lied. He took a seat next to Abigail, lightly resting his hand on the counter next to his knife.

"So how's Abby doing in school?" The mom asked, pouring John's coffee. John looked over at Abigail, who did not look to happy at the question.

"Fine enough, she gets the textbook answers but doesn't really pick up what I write on the board or say; she passed her last test, though."

The mom nodded, and handed John his coffee. He pretended to take a sip, and held it in his hand. "So, I heard you're back after a long time away."

"Yeah, I taught here several years ago, moved upstate when I got married. But my wife died unexpectedly, and I decided to come back here to teach."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Abigail's mom said as she pulled a knife from the drawer. Lightning fast she threw it at John, but he was prepared and threw his butter knife right back at it, splitting the cleaver down the middle of the blade and handle and hitting her in the shoulder. He threw his coffee in her face, and grabbed Abigail's hand and pulled her with him as he ran.

"What's going on?!" Abigail asked with fear.

"Your parents aren't who you think they are! They-" Abigail's "father" slammed into John from the side, tackling him into the wall. John recovered good, spinning the dad off and slamming him face-first into a painting, breaking the glass. John elbowed him at the base of his skull, then pulled out a piece of broken glass from the frame and jammed it into the man's jugular. Abigail recoiled in horror, but still went with John when he opened the door calmly and closed it not in a hurry.

"Please, what's going on?!"

"Not what I was told would be happening. Look, I'll get you to Manhasset safely, but I think something big is going on here."

"Manhasset? So you're the guy?"

"Yeah, I'm the guy."

"My boyfriend said his father would send someone, but… I wasn't sure."

John paused for a second before opening the car door for Abigail. "...If you don't mind me asking, who is your boyfriend?"

"Jarrett Holcomb," Abigail said, sliding into the car.

"Another question," Began John as he got into the car. "What exactly were you and your boyfriend going to be doing in Manhasset?"

"We were going to ditch school and go shopping, and... other things." Sighing with knowledges, John shook his head and started up the car. "And you drive a Vibe? You'd think someone who can do what you do would drive something more badass."

"The car's on loan for the job."

"Jarrett's dad couldn't get you something a little more classy? Uh, not that there's anything wrong with a Vibe."

"Look, Abigail, Jarrett's dad is most definitely not who you think he is, and there's a good chance Jarrett isn't either."

"But he's just a banker! I've seen a picture of them together, he's a skinny nerdy looking guy, not some mobster or something."

"Mobsters, the ones who actually make it in the underground, are chameleons. Looks and job are no guarantee." Abigail fell silent as they made their way back to the main traveling roads. She looked at the console and turned on the radio, and It's Not Unusual by Tom Jones came on. Getting onto the on ramp, John looked back in the mirror and saw a car fast approaching. They pulled away to the side a little bit and sped up, and John wished people would actually learn how to drive in addition to taking a flippin' easy written test. But the car didn't pass John! The passenger window of the trendy black car rolled down, and Abigail's mom leveled an Uzi at John. "DUCK!" John and Abigail got down just as the window shattered.

"Who followed us?!"

"Your mother!" John answered. "Do you know how to drive a manual?!"

"No, I've only driven an automatic!"

"Well you've got about three seconds to learn how!" Pulling out his gun, John came up and fired, hitting Abigail's "mom" across the chest and shoulder. He could see someone climbing up from the back seat on the other side, and decided to get out. "Abigail, take the wheel!" As John climbed out, his heel hit the volume and It's Not Unusual went to max. He and the climber from the other car got out at the same time, and their jackets blew about with a dramatic windiness. When Abigail took the wheel the two cars smashed together, making a platform of automobile destruction. The man on the black car was tall, and had salt and pepper stubble and dark brown hair, overall looking kinda like Pierce Brosnan but if he had been born in New York. He fired his gun at John, but missed due to the moving, John fired and also missed, and then the two men stared each other. The New York Brosnan guy nodded, and he and John leapt towards each other, their fists and feet furiously clashing in the air like two swarms of martial arts fireflies.

Then Abigail swerved away, and the New York Brosnan guy fell off the car and tumbled onto the overpass. "Did you get him?" Asked Abigail, as she scooted over for John.

"You did, actually."

"Hey, I told you I didn't know how to drive a manual." John sighed and turned down the radio as It's Not Unusual ended, and right after he got buckled again another car slammed into them, forcing them over the guard rail! As they fell John could see the other car coming down after them, a black sports car with a sunroof and spinners. The passenger window was open, and John emptied his clip into the car, seeing that a shot caught the passenger guy in the chin and another in the driver's right shoulder. Then the cars crashed down with dull metal crunching sounds- they had landed on a train!

"Are you alright?!"

"I have a headache… but I think I'll be fine." John mentally cursed, knowing that the girl probably had a concussion.

As he began to get ready to drive off the train, the back window was shattered by an inconsiderate gunshot. Looking in the rearview mirror, it seems that there had been a gunner in the black sports car's back seat, and they survived the fall. The woman, with fashionably messy black hair and cool leather clothes ran forwards shooting. With a new clip from his inside jacket pocket John opened the car door, but popped up and shot through the back window. The shooter woman had good reflexes, and rolled away.

"Good to know you're back, John! I thought that mess back in October was a one time thing!"

"I did too," John said to himself. He then popped out from the car, shooting very accurately and getting the shooter woman in the thigh. She winced as she went down, and John sprinted over and kicked away her gun. "Who are you working for?" John growled.

"The Fat Man made a mistake hiring you. The old John Wick would have already killed me."

"Yeah, well, the new me would like some answers."

"When you leave the business you put a target on your back. It's not just us, John. You may have thought you were retiring but you only started a game of whack-a-mole, except the mole is you and instead of hammers there are gu-" John shot the woman through her other thigh, and for good measure kicked her in her lady parts. And then, as he turned around… the train started moving! John hurried back to the car, and quickly strapped on his seat belt. He saw Abigail's purse was in her lap, and she was on her cell phone. He yanked the phone out of her hand, and threw it out of the window.

"Hey, what the fu-"

"GET BUCKLED, DAMMIT! We have above thirty seconds before the momentum throws us off the curve!"

"Sheesh, I'll get buckled. But I'll have you know that was the latest iPh-"

"If you want to live, shut up and let me concentrate on getting us off the train."

"Don't tell me what to do," Abigail said, pulling a gold-plated 1911 out of her purse and pointing it at John. Abigail smirked, no longer looking quite so young as John had first thought. "All the stories are true. Even after all this time away, you're still as good as they said you would be."

"It's just like riding a bicycle," John said with wittiness. With a great speed he whipped up his hand and caught Abigail's, and with his other hand ripped the gun away and tossed it out the window. The train was speeding up and the curve was fast approaching, and Abigail began to throw punchings at John, to try to take control of the car. Out of the corner of his visions John saw the curve zooming up, and floored the gas and turned away from it. He still took a hard punch to his face, but he kept his toughness and braced for impact. It was a hard landing on the sidewalk; John was still in hurt but okay shape, but Abigail had never put her seatbelt back on, and had been tossed around and flew out of her window, landing ultra-hard on her face. John glanced and could see she wasn't moving, so he took out his knife and deflated the airbag, moving it out of the way and driving off. "Just taking a shortcut to work!" He said cheerily to the shocked bystanders.

A few blocks away, John pulled into the alley to take a moment to breathe. The ominous feelings he'd had when he first woke were now back, stronger than ever. As he thought of these feelings and how his life had become a game of whack-a-mole, he heard a bumping noise coming from the trunk, and some muffled vocal sound. With reluctances he got out and opened the trunk, and was almost surprised by what he saw: a younger woman who looked to be of Chinese-American heritage, wearing an amazingly tacky floral nightgown and camo Air Jordans, with her hands and feet tied up. "-Out of here! Oh…! Oh… please, please don't hurt me…"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Abigail- Abigail Parsons." John spat out a certain four letter word, and ran his hand through his hair. "Please, they kidnapped me last night, and I just need to get home…"

"Where do you live, Abigail?"

"Twenty-eight Dewey Street, up in Manhasset." John swore again. After the first Abigail, he began to realize that the Fat Man From Shanghai did not actually want his help, and this Abigail's home was the one he was supposed to deliver to.

"...Alright. I'll get you home, but I have some business I need to take care of first." John helped Abigail out of the trunk, and went to go get his knife, and cut off the ties on her ankles.

"Where are we going?"

"To get some freaking breakfast. There's no way I'm doing this on only a cup of coffee." John buckled up Abigail, and himself, and drove off. It just so happened that there was a Starbucks about six blocks away, still busy from the morning. There was a good line inside, but at least it wasn't moving as slow as the traffic had been when he left his house.

"What can I get you, sir?" Asked the cashier, who was a cute blond girl definitely too cheerful for John at this particular moment.

"I'll have one bacon and gouda, one ham and cheese, and a pumpkin spice latte."

"Gotcha. And the pumpkin spice will be for?"

"John Wick."

"That's a pretty wicked name," The cashier said, chuckling until she looked at John. She cleared her throat, and rung up the order with efficiency. "The sandwiches are already hot, it'll be a moment for the latte." John paid, and hung back at an empty table as his order was being prepared. From a glimpse John saw the sandwiches being placed on a tray, and baristas in the back working away at a fast speed making drinks.

"Decaf frappuccino for Batman!" John heard some snickering off to the side, and a young school-age man walked up to claim the order. The guy high-fived his friends as he sat down, and soon another drink was ready. "Venti blonde roast for a fucking legend!" There was more snickering, and another school guy in preppy clothes walked up to claim his order.

John turned to a thirty-something business professional to his right. "Five bucks says the next one is Chuck Norris."

"Ten says it's McLovin." John nodded, and shook hands with the man.

The same barista setting the drinks out came back. "Can the douchebag who placed his order as 'God's gift to women' please come get his very manly order of a caramel macchiato?" The Starbucks erupted in cheers, and another guy from the same group walked over with his head hanging down.

"Soy chai latte for the Fat Man From Shanghai!" John froze, and walking up to the bar was the very nondescript man he had met with earlier in the morning. He winked at the barista and stuffed a few bills into the tip jar, and smiled at John as he left the shop.

John himself was about to leave, but remembered his order before he did. "Two breakfast sandwiches and a pumpkin spice latte for John Wick!" John picked up his order and put the rest of the cash in his wallet in the tip jar, and hurried out of the door.

Back in the parking lot, John opened up the back door and picked up the duffel bag, then opened up the door for Abigail. "Come on."

"Oh no, I am not going to walk around in this, no one even knows I own this and I'd like to keep it that way. They didn't even let me put on socks last night!" Eyeing a younger business woman coming out of the Starbucks, John began to walk towards her, pulling Abigail with him. "Hey!"

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

"Yes?" The young lady turned towards John, and for a second she reminded him of his late wife.

Quickly John pulled away her car keys and unzipped the duffel bag, and handed her a few stacks. "Here's a thousand dollars. You're going to be taking a cab this morning."

"You think you can just bribe me and steal my car?"

"Here's two thousand."

"It's the robin's egg blue Impala on the end of the row." John nodded his thanks, and unlocked the Impala, the car beeping with unlockingness.

"Did we seriously just hijack a random chick's car?" Asked Abigail.

"Stranger things have already happened this morning," John replied dryly. He opened the car door for Abigail and buckled her in. "Here's a ham and cheese breakfast sandwich and a pumpkin spice latte."

"Pumpkin spice latte? Do I look like some stereotypical white girl?"

"First thing that came to mind, sorry."

"Nah it's alright, I actually love these things," Abigail said, taking a sip of her latte. John unwrapped his bacon and gouda and started eating it as they got back on the road. "So where're we headed now?" Asked Abigail, taking a slurpy sip of her latte.

"We're going to Don Panini's."

"But we just got a couple sandwiches from that Starbuck's."

"He doesn't run a food place, he… helps men like m- like I used to be do what they need to do."

"Men like you? You're not into something illegal, are you?"

"Abigail, all I'm going to do today is take you home, and then take the next flight out of the country. You don't have to worry about the law being broken."

"Next flight out of the country, huh yeah I do think you're into something illegal."

"...How do they say it, 'the game needed me'? Today hasn't exactly gone as planned."

"The game nee- know what, I'm just going to finish my food." John nodded with agreements, and took a big bite of his sandwich. Don Panini's was further East. With light traffic it would've taken about twelve minutes or so, but with the morning busyness still around, it took over twenty. "...But seriously though, who is Don Panini?"

"A dealer. After what happened while you were in the trunk I'm a little low on supplies."

"Knew it. What kind of dealer?"

"Look, Abigail, I understand your concerns but the less you know the better. Just trust me on that."

"Well, it's kinda hard to trust a man who only unties your feet and hijacks a car."

"Touche." Being close to Don Panini's now, John stepped on the gas and went a little faster, about two miles an hour over the speed limit. It was the time of a butterfly before he came to the street, and he pulled into the alley. "Can you stay in here? It'll only be a few minutes."

"Like I would be going anywhere in what I'm wearing now," Abigail replied with sarcasms.

"Thanks." John Wick opened the door to Don Panini's and immediately saw a dude in a Albert Einstein mask grinding against a blood elf from that one online game, and a guy in a Santa suit was twerking next to the R.P.G.'s. John stepped out and closed the door, blinking and shaking his head. He tried again in a few seconds, but the party was still going on. John agreed with the music, it needed to turn down. Looking around the shop, he could see many people dancing, and behind the counter was a guy wearing a Mickey Mouse helmet working as the DJ. "Excuse me! Have you seen Don?"

"Dawn's up in the loft!"

John checked the loft and there were many girls up there, but no sign of Don. "No, I mean Don Panini!"

"There are two Dawn's here!" John sighed, and took out his gun. He fired three shots into the ceiling, which unfortunately did not make everyone go quiet and still as he had intended. Guns and switchblades and tasers were pulled from costumes, and as John headed to the back room the shooting began. It sounded like a helicopter in a bullfight with Megatron in a china shop, and John had to fire a couple shots to cover his movement. The back room of ammo looked like a boiling pot of nakedness and throw pillows, and there was the scent of bodily secretions and cigars in the air. Stepping carefully over a furiously active couple, John climbed onto the racks and shimmied over to the ammo he needed, grabbing a couple boxes, and going a bit further to grab a bandolier of grenades. Climbing back towards the front, John heard that some nincompoop had left one of the R.P.G.'s loaded, as one of them was fired. On the ground John loaded up his magazines, and started an army crawl for the exit.

There was still lots of shooting, with so many gun flashes it was like a strobe light of death. Another R.P.G. shot, that blew up a rack and falling down in front of John. The Albert Einstein mask guy did a sideways diving shot with two guns, which looked pretty cool but didn't actually hit anyone, and in any case he crashed into the counter and knocked himself out. John made it to the fallen shelf and kept crawling, picking up a random gun along the way. He looked sideways- his vision peripherals had seen someone crawling alongside him- it was the girl dressed as the blood elf, who was now actually bloody. John crawled even faster, and soon made it back to the door. He pushed it open then sprang up and dashed for the the Impala. The blood elf girl was right behind him, and before the door closed an R.P.G. shot out, exploding against the opposite building. John hurriedly jumped into the car and started it up, and since it was still unlocked the blood elf girl got in in the back seat.

"...Do I even want to know?"

"No, you really don't," John answered Abigail. They all sped off, the tires smoking up before the Impala shot away.

"Crazy party, huh?" Asked the blood elf girl.

"Not the worst I've been to," Said John. "Anywhere you'd like to be dropped off? I have something I need to do…"

"Nah, I'm good. Probably not a good idea for me to be out on the street right now, I've been high pretty much since my last contract."

"Contract? Is that what they're calling it these days?" Abigail asked with hintings, looking back at the blood elf girl.

"Well, most of us think it's pretty tacky to call it an assassination, but yeah that's kinda what we're calling it."

"Assa- no, no no no no. I am not riding in a stolen car with two hitmen right now…"

"And I am not seeing a girl wearing a floral nightgown and Air Jordans."

"Hey. Fuck you."

"That works fine for me." Abigail realized what the blood elf girl meant, and started to blush. "Clara Bartz," The blood elf girl said, holding her hand out towards the front seat; neither John or Abigail shook it. Clara sniffed. "Did one of you just have a pumpkin spice latte? That's a must-have for my munchies."

"We won't be going by Starbucks for a while," John said.

"So where are we headed?"

"I'm taking Abigail home."

"Ah. That explains the nightgown." Both John and Abigail looked back at Clara, who cleared her throat and sat back. "So where you from, Abigail?"

"Manhasset."

"That's pretty rad. My first Wednesday girl was from there." Clara fell silent for a moment, then cleared her throat and spoke again. "Hate to bring this up since I kinda crashed the ride, but could we stop somewhere to get a bite to eat? I didn't really have much at the party, and if I don't satisfy my munchies I spew bile like a fire hydrant."

"Well, if we're going to be stopping somewhere how about I get a change of clothes?" Abigail added. John sighed, and took a left.

"Fine. We'll do it in Manhasset."

"Righteous," Clara said with ninetiesness.

John Wick and the girls pulled up to The Gibson, and got out. "We only have only about eight thousand left, so don't go too crazy. Just one outfit."

"Excuse me, you have a duffel bag full of cash walking into The Gibson and you tell a girl not to go too crazy? Get the stick out of your ass, bro."

"Well I'm sorry Clara, but you're not the one having the day that I am and I just want to finish the job, okay?"

"It's not even noon yet, chill out." John massaged his temples, and opened the door for the girls.

The two greeters watched them walk by, and shared a look. "That would be a great start to a joke," The short one with glasses said.

"I'll be hanging out in men's. Come find me when you have your clothes."

"Yes, dad." Clara giggled; and to make things worse it seemed she and Abigail had simply gotten off to a bad start and were now fast friends. John himself is fine with only getting a new pair of pants, as his current pair is pretty soggy from the visit to Don Panini's and ripped in a couple places. He picks a pair with a spacious crotch, able to stretch enough for a good high kick. He's not quite sure if they're stylish, but can tell they'll fit so he isn't too worried about that. Though, John does frown when he sees the price tag.

"Can I help you, sir?"

John looked over, and saw an employee standing next to him. She had very cute cheeks and eyebrows, and her dark blonde hair in a nice braid over her shoulder. "I'm fine, I'll just be getting this pair."

"We're having a buy one get one twenty-five percent off sale right now, and our prices are already at a seasonal low."

"I'm just looking for this one pair."

"Would you like me to show you to the fitting rooms?"

"No, I know my size, I can tell these will fit."

"Our fitting rooms were updated recently."

"Fine, why not?" The Gibson employee smiled and led John away. He could see Clara and Abigail were still looking for clothes, so he sighed and got ready to wait for a while. The dressing room indeed looked new, and very spacious. Then he heard the door close behind him, and he turned around.

"Good to see you're back," Said the Gibson employee.

"This is literally the first time I've ever been in this store."

"Please, Bartz is the hottest in the game right now. And in comes John Wick at her side, looking like the two of you just got some business done."

"Who are you?"

"A fan," Said the employee, taking off her shirt. "A very, very big fan." John almost groaned; after his wife died he just wasn't interested in this kind of thing. She unhooked her bra and came forwards, holding onto John's hips and resting her forehead against his chest. She began stroking his sides, and looked up into John's eyes with longings. "How about I get you out of those pants before you try on the new pair?"

"That won't be necessary-" But the employee yanked down John's pants and boxers, and he had to step out of his shoes. She tried to come back up, but John held her head down and pulled out his gun.

"You don't want some?"

"Oh, I'm pretty close to blowing your brains out." The employee looked up and saw John's gun, and tried to grab it. She wrestled with his arm, and the two brushed up against the door latch, opening it so that they fell out. They rolled over and came back out into the store, and John rolled over backwards, firing a shot at his fangirl. It missed her spine by a hair, and John remembered Abigail and Clara. He dashed over to the women's fitting rooms and kicked open the first door he came to- it was a thirty-something woman who was in the middle of putting her bra back on; she shrieked and John moved to the next one. "Abigail, we need to get out of here!"

"I only have my pants on!"

"That's good enough!" John kicked open this door, and it was Abigail, who was topless. She screamed, and John pulled her out. Soon after they were met by gunshots- John's fangirl had gotten a gun from behind the front counter! John fired back, and the fangirl chased them out with her gun blazing. The gunshots set off car alarms, and John ducked behind a Mazda Miata to reload as Abigail continued to freak out.

"-And to top it all off that bitch with the gun even has better tits than I do!"

"Well, at least you won't have to worry about gravity."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means start running!" John stood up and fired back, but soon Clara came from behind and kicked the door open into John's fangirl, and in a split-second came out, took the gun from her, and landed a heavy blow to her skull that knocked her out. It took a second, but John found the Impala again, and ran over clicking it open. Once in John and Abigail sat a moment to catch their breath.

"Huh," Abigail said, looking over at John's lack of pants. "It's actually a little bit-"

"Don't. Finish. That sentence."

"Oh, so you get to make that little comment about gravity, but-"

"Nice of you two to wait for me," Clara said as she got in the car, totally naked. "But it kinda sucks that I'll probably be banned from The Gibson for life."

"...Says the assassin as she sits naked in a stolen car," Abigail commented with great pointedness.

"Ha, that would make a great punchline for a joke," Clara said. John sighed and shook his head, and pulled out of the parking lot as fast as he could. It was only about a minute later that they came to Abigail's house.

John stopped at the curb, and took a deep breath. He still remembered the earlier morning, and the visit to the first "Abigail"; also he thought of how Abigail had said she had been kidnapped. "Look, Abigail," Began John as he unbuckled and put back on his bandolier of grenades, "I'm going to head in and make sure the house is clear. If I'm not back out in five minutes just drive away."

"Where am I going to go without a shirt?" After thinking of it for a second, John took off his shirt and gave it to Abigail, and put the duffel bag with the cash in it in her lap.

"Anywhere you want to go." John got out of the car with heroicness, which was slightly undermined by the car being a girly color and his lack of clothing. When he was almost at the door, he heard someone running up behind him.

"Hold on just a second," Clara said.

"What?"

"There's no way I'm gonna miss a chance to do a B and E with John fuckin' Wick," She said with huge grinnings. John shook his head.

"Have you even done one before?"

"Does the trip to The Gibson count?"

Sighing, John kicked open the door, and was greeted by the sight of a young mother playing with two children in the hallway. They all stood silent for what felt like a forever, before the toddler boy giggled and pointed at John. "Momma, he's nay-kid!" Slowly, John closed the door, and turned around.

"Well, that could have been worse," Clara said with no helpfulness. Coming back to the Impala, they could see another car had come in and parked ahead of it- and getting out of the car was the very nondescript man from before! Immediately he shoots Clara, who falls backwards with a gasp.

"I gotta hand it to you John, not only do you take out the Cottrells, but you bring us Bartz, all in the same day!"

"There was never actually a package codenamed Abigail, was there?"

"Of course not." The nondescript man opens the passenger door, and pulls out Abigail with roughness. "Well, it's been a pleasure working with you, John."

"Hold on."

"What?"

"There's one more person I have to kill."

"Ha! And who would that be?"

"The Fat Man From Shanghai." The nondescript man's eyes go wide, and in a split-second John takes aim and fires, the shot catching him right between the eyes.

"Who's the fat man?! You just shot a random mugger!" Abigail said.

"Everybody knows what he looks like, but no one's actually seen him in person. It's always that you have to deal with one of his messengers- and then, that man had a G.P.S. tracker put in the Vibe, and he was following us around earlier in the day. And on top of that, he manipulated me into taking out a rival hit squad, which is classic Fat Man."

"Well, I suppose that makes sense," Abigail said, kneeling down beside the nondescript man. "Actually, John, that's an excellent theory. There's just one problem with it."

"What's that?"

In one fluid motion, Abigail picked up the nondescript man's gun and turned to face John. "I'm the Fat Man From Shanghai." Abigail leveled the gun at John's stunned countenance, and pulled the trigger.

...Nothing happened; the ammo was gone. "Next time you play whack-a-mole, make sure you have a hammer." John expertly shot Abigail, who fell down and curled up into a ball.

"Even though that was an awful one-liner, and I'm gay and dying, I would totally make out with you right now," Clara wheezed.

"Come on, let's get you to the hospital…" John picked up Clara and gave her a kiss on her forehead, and got her into the car and drove away...


End file.
